


To ride a wave on your inhaling

by risinggreatness



Series: Circle 'round the sun [112]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Non-Graphic Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3479957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being held by Captain Solo can be more exciting than Leia thinks (not EU compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	To ride a wave on your inhaling

“And you’re sure you’re alright?”

“Never better.”

Luke smiles lightly, but Leia’s not convinced. He’s got something on his mind and it’s not nearly freezing to death. He goes quiet quickly, turning his face so she can’t see the fresh scars.

However overwhelmingly protective Leia feels towards Luke, she could not have saved him. He is here only thanks to Han’s unfailing devotion.

They both know what would have happened if he had left already.

“We’ve started diverting full power to the energy shield,” she offers.

“Glad to hear it,” his tone rings false. “I guess that means there won’t be any ships leaving the system.” To himself, “Good.”

“What do you mean ‘good’?”

Quirking an eyebrow, “You can’t tell me you’re not, at least, a little relieved that it will put off Han leaving.”

She’s had quite enough from Han; she doesn’t need it from Luke too. Leia shakes her head disbelievingly, “What in the galaxy makes you believe I have any interest in the comings and goings of Captain Solo?”

There’s a knock at the door before Luke can put another word in edgewise. Han swaggers in, much to Leia’s chagrin.

The look on Luke’s face might as well say ‘that does’. He rolls his eyes at them both while they bicker.

It’s good Han is still convinced Luke is infatuated with her and underestimates how close they are because she needs to do _something_ to prove how little she cares if he stays or if he goes. Kissing Luke appears to be the only way to disabuse him of that notion.

The dumbfounded expression on his face is a win in a long line of frustrating conversations with the swollen-headed captain of the _Millennium Falcon_.

Leia cocks her head and smirks triumphantly up at Han.

( _She’s lucky there’s enough of a competitive streak left in Luke to play it up and gloat as well._ )

\----------

Han truly is the most irritating, jumped-up, Corellian dirt farmer she has ever had the misfortune to meet.

Leia huffs furiously several times to herself after he exits the cockpit.

‘Haven’t got time for anything else’, indeed.

As if there was anything he could do that would make her excited.

\----------

She spots him over her work. Dirty goggles hide her eyes.

Han shaved.

Between repairing this bucket of bolts, hiding from the Imperial fleet, and avoiding 3PO at every opportunity, he found the time to shave. Made the time, more like.

Leia easily guesses why, though to acknowledge the effort would only reward his behavior. The opposite only denies her the pleasure of the taste of him. She is caught.

It’s harder to maintain their flirtatious game with pride and desire pulling her between continuing her winning streak and wanting desperately to just give in completely.

When did Han learn how to play better than her?

She must have been neglecting her job because Chewie roars for her attention.

Han turns just in time to see Leia avert her gaze back to the control panel. He smirks like he’s won this round, but there’s no way he could know how long she was staring.

She and Chewie resume tests and Han returns to his task.

Leia discreetly lets her eyes flit in his direction as all three of them continue to work.

Maybe this time he’ll initiate. It is his move. Or maybe he thinks shaving the stubble will be enough to drive her wild.

She doesn’t think her pride can take another hit.

\----------

The outfit laid out on the bed is finer than anything Leia’s worn in a long time; she fingers the embroidery on the cloak.

Leia puts it on, surprised to find how accurately Lando Calrissian was able to guess her size. Despite her reservations about the man, she is grateful for the gift; anything is better than her snowsuit at this point.

Her room opens into a larger suite; light and airy, befitting of the name Cloud City.

Han is there, putting in a dozen work orders for the Falcon. She’s amazed he allows anyone to tamper with the ship that isn’t him or under Chewie’s constant surveillance.

Looking up from the datapad, he gapes. Leia smiles wryly, while Han recovers, “You clean up nice.”

“You’ve seen me dressed for award ceremonies before.”

“I mean without all the excess court attire.”

She scowls. Up until they kissed, he insisted on referring to her as ‘princess’ and yet he still looks on all things regal with disdain.

But she can’t stay angry with Han for long, not when he’s looking at her so expectantly.

“Well?” he asks.

“Well what?”

Gesturing at his appearance, “Aren’t you going to return the compliment?”

Leia has made no acknowledgement of his effort to impress her. With a shave and a shower, she admits she wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen on his arm ( _though she is not opposed to the grime of the Falcon when it is just them_ ). The fleet finally made the jump to hyperspace, when she was about ready to give in again.

She plays off him, “Did you clean up? I hadn’t noticed.”

“I find that so hard to believe.”

Han crosses the room towards her; each stride has purpose. Leia’s breath quickens.

Emotions run high while on the run, it makes sense she should have been attracted to him then. Not here though. Not where she knows how to behave. High society and codes of conduct are how she was raised; she shouldn’t be in danger of falling for him here.

Trying to hold on, “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because you’re staring.”

She is staring and has been for a long time – if she can just hold out a moment longer.

“You’re imagining things again.”

“Am I? I seem to remember you kissing me while I was half-dressed pretty clearly or did I imagine that too?”

“My memory is hazy; it was quite warm at the time,” Leia can barely stand it anymore. She wants to taste him again, to feel him under her fingers, but she cannot give in, “I’m afraid you’ll have to remind me.”

And he does, slowly parting her lips with his tongue.

Han’s hands encircle her waist pulling her into him; what she wouldn’t give for this closeness ( _for skin to touch skin_ ) in the seclusion of the Falcon.

Would that her head could stop reminding her that he is leaving; her hands would stop clinging to his jacket and trail to the buckle of his belt.

Leia is stunned by the might of her longing for physical contact with the smuggler. Han hasn’t stolen anything from her ( _yet_ ) that she can’t live without. Her heart is still in its place, though its ceaseless thud tries to escape her chest to reside in his.

Han breaks apart first this time; his jacket bunches between her fingers. It is cruel of him to tease her like this.

“Better?”

For a moment, she is too light-headed to comprehend what he’s talking about.

Then he places a kiss on her neck. The smoothness of his jaw brushing against her cheek brings the galaxy into focus.

“Much,” she approves.

It is all the encouragement he needs to bury his face further into the crook of her neck.

Hands finally release his jacket, hoping to find some other means to occupy themselves, but her arms are pinned between their bodies.

The door chimes and the interruption is worse than before ( _the anticipation of things to come sullied_ ). Leia and Han spring apart, flushed and avoiding each other’s gaze.

Chewie roars something Leia isn’t able to understand any of.

“What do you mean 3PO’s missing? He has to be around somewhere! Have Lando look for him!”

“No,” Leia reneges Han’s orders. “You’d better do it yourself, Chewie. It’s bad enough that man is overseeing the repairs to the Falcon.”

Han exasperatedly throws his arms up in the air.

“Would you rather I do it all myself, or better yet, you?”

“You could, at the very least, oversee the repairs. Make sure it isn’t being tampered with.”

His chin scrunches, thoroughly annoyed, “The Falcon’s just about the only thing I trust Lando not to tamper with. He’s more likely to try to steal it back than anything else.”

She fixes him with a hard stare.

“Alright. Alright. Let’s go, Chewie. The princess has given us a command.”

It takes everything in Leia’s power to roll her eyes rather than draw him back for another kiss.

\----------

Meetings are beginning to take longer than she remembers. Leia misses the smell of engine oil and touch of cold machinery as she sits through countless petitions.

She’s grown accustomed to the noise of the hangar bay and a different set of endless tasks to keep her occupied and working alongside people she loves, rather than tolerates. Either tinkering with the Falcon’s hyperdrive or experimenting with the Force, the hangar has become the place she wants to be.

Her entry to the Falcon is preceded by a great deal of yelling; she chuckles silently to herself as she listens to the argument.

“Luke did what to the steering?!”

Chewie roars a response.

Han bursts from the engine room, red and mad as hell, “Luke! How many times am I going to tell you, don’t mess –” spotting her, he stops in his tracks.

Engine grease and sweat mix on his forehead; he looks an absolute mess, but it is his natural state and Leia loves it.

“Hey. Thought you were working late,” he kisses her cheek.

“It’s late already. How long has it been since you’ve seen the sky?”

His face pinches, but lines with amusement.

He draws her closer for a proper greeting. Leia is overwhelmed by a strong desire to go further.

“You going to finish that sentence, Han?” Luke asks stepping into the corridor. “Because otherwise I’m just going to finish rewiring the steering.” Noticing her, “Hi Leia.”

Leia feels somewhat guilty for the way she and Han parade around in front of Luke. Though he is one of the few people they can be completely genuine around, it can’t be easy to watch after a recent break up.

“So can I lend a hand anywhere?” she offers the freighter captain.

“You could help me sort out the wiring down here,” Ahsoka shouts from the maintenance hatch.

Ordinarily Leia would jump at the opportunity to work with Ahsoka, but it’s already been a long day and she has other ideas in mind.

“That doesn’t sound very exciting.”

Han’s brow raises at the suggestion, “Want to take the old girl for a spin – see if the new engine works?”

Luke gets the idea faster than Ahsoka does and ducks begs off Falcon maintenance repairs. About to protest, it only takes a gentle nudging from Chewie to pry Ahsoka away; her mouth forming an understanding ‘o’ shape when she finally takes the hint.

Finally alone, Leia nearly knocks Han into the wall with excitement.

“Let’s get moving before anyone comes looking for you,” Han poses the prudent plan ( _their alone time’s been interrupted before_ ).

The cockpit has become as familiar to her as Han; she likes the way they look best when they are together: utterly at home. She takes the co-pilot seat so she can better see his face as they take off.

They are lucky the Falcon’s engines do not stall.

Among the stars they are beyond atmo, beyond distraction, and beyond reach.

They do away with their clothes as soon as Han turns away from the controls. Leia climbs onto Han’s lap, looping her arms around his neck. His wrap around her waist.

It seems so long ago being held by Han was hardly an attractive prospect.

Now it is a daily need ( _she cannot call it a want because she cannot live without it_ ), almost as intrinsic to her as mountain air in her lungs or the stars hanging overhead.

They watch the stars ( _in each other’s eyes and up above_ ) from their seat.

After some time, Leia speaks, “I am not looking forward to tomorrow.”

“Then don’t. Let’s stay up here.”

She fixes him with a look and a skeptical brow.

“There are more than enough space stations; we would never have to set foot on the ground again.” She can’t make out if Han is being serious.

“The Falcon still needs massive maintenance in order to sustain such a long term arrangement.”

Han shrugs, “Handle her right and she’ll surprise you.”

Leia wonders if even Han knows whether he’s talking about the ship or about her. ( _Sometimes it might as well be both. Other times she laughs, realizing it was the Falcon he was talking about – not her._ )

Either way, his handling coaxes more out both of them than anyone would expect.

Leaning back, “You know, you still haven’t taught me your tricks for flying the old girl.”

“How about I show you a few now?”

One hand on the steering, the other still firmly grasping her waist, Han begins to teach Leia the secret to flying the Falcon smoothly. If she’s honest, Leia’s attention is more on his embrace than the lesson.

Being held by Han is a great deal more exciting than Leia ever thought it would be.

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
